


We are made for compassion

by bloodandcream



Series: Ship all the Ships [12]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Comfort/Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-19
Updated: 2014-09-19
Packaged: 2018-02-17 23:24:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2326943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandcream/pseuds/bloodandcream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Many angel’s didn’t have that kind of strength, to think for themselves. She admired him for that. For his strength to persevere and to lead when she asked it of him. Perhaps he had been reluctant, and had needed a bit of a push, but he tried to right his wrongs and help his brothers and that was what mattered in the end. She couldn’t let him do this to himself, alone, wrapped up his remorse and shame. She wouldn’t.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We are made for compassion

Hannah wasn’t certain what she had expected to find, after she had finally tracked down Castiel when he disappeared without so much as a goodbye. She did not expect what she got, however, which was an angel that looked haggard and tired, standing there in a ragged robe and shifting around as perhaps nervous or embarrassed. She had never seen him outside his suit. His hair was rumpled and there were bags under his eyes. He looked, even more human.

"Castiel."

“Hello Hannah.”

“It is good to see you.”

“What are you doing here?”

She had expected questions, his stubborn sense of wariness and prideful independence. That was perhaps why he had run, when Metatron was locked away, or perhaps it was also to do with his friends. Hannah didn’t know if he had found them, or if he had given up. Maybe he had given up on all of them. But she didn’t want for him to. She wouldn’t give up on him, not again.

"I came to see if you needed anything."

"No."

"Oh."

He squinted at her briefly before looking over her shoulder, and down at his feet. Right now he wasn’t the composed, commanding angel she had known. Hannah wondered if the grace he’d stolen was seeping away slowly, if he’d burn out soon, if it hurt. Hannah was grateful that she still had her grace after being exiled from heaven. Some angel’s had lost their grace, some their wings, some their lives.

"May I come in?"

He looked like he wanted to say no, but he stepped aside so Hannah made her way in to the small and weary dwelling. It was a sad place. She thought of animals finding a quiet corner to hide and die in.

"Are you…. what have you been doing lately Castiel?"

"Not much of anything."

"Do you know how much time you have left?"

"No."

"You shouldn’t be alone."

"Hannah why are you -"

“You don’t deserve to be alone.”

He turned and made his way into a kitchen area, cramped, the walls water stained. A pot was filled with water from a shuddering faucet that made noise in the walls and Castiel set it on the stove.

"Do you need to eat now?"

"Sometimes."

"I want you to know that there are angels who miss you. Who looked up to you as a leader."

"Don’t. Don’t tell me things like that."

"Why? So you can let yourself be suffocated by your self imposed guilt before you die?"

"I am guilty."

“You have been guilty, and you have worked to fix your mistakes and you’ve paid your penance. You’ve done so many good things Castiel you don’t need to suffer, to feel like this, you don’t -“

“Hannah stop. I can’t believe that. I can’t let myself.”

His shoulders were stooped when he poured boiling water into a mug with a tea bag, sipping gingerly at the hot drink.

She hadn’t been there when Castiel waged his war on Raphael and all the angel’s followers, when he’d decimated heaven and killed his brethren. She had heard stories, but she wasn’t part of that battle. What Castiel had done, perhaps it was not right, but what Raphael was doing wasn’t right either. Maybe there wasn’t any sort of right, just lost children trying to figure out what they were supposed to do, left to their own devices, where to go, how to make sense of things that didn’t make sense when the apocalypse was avoided and their fates weren’t writ in scripture anymore.

She did believe that the aversion of what would have been a catastrophic battle between Lucifer and Michael was a good thing. Castiel had been part of that. And he had attempted to straighten out affairs in heaven. There had been wars between angels before. There would be more. Hannah believed in Castiel’s intention, in his vision. She believed he only ever wanted to help and to do the right thing, she knew he tried to figure it out for himself instead of letting himself be led astray.

Many angel’s didn’t have that kind of strength, to think for themselves. She admired him for that. For his strength to persevere and to lead when she asked it of him. Perhaps he had been reluctant, and had needed a bit of a push, but he tried to right his wrongs and help his brothers and that was what mattered in the end.

She couldn’t let him do this to himself, alone, wrapped up his remorse and shame. She wouldn’t.

"Castiel. We are made for compassion. To love. And to forgive. Not only for our father, but for all his creations, and that includes you."

With a heavy sigh he resigned himself to sit across from her at the rickety table with his steaming cup of tea and he held her gaze then.

"I have hurt so many. And I have failed."

"As have you helped so many. We are on our way to healing. You’ve shown us what we needed to see and we will recover from this."

Hannah reached into her jacket pocket for a small folded box, setting it on the table between them.

"I brought a small chess board."

She took all the pieces out and set them up on the scuffed plastic board. When she was helping Castiel to find the scattered angels and track down Metatron, they worked tirelessly, but, there were a few moments of pause when she had learned more about him, how he liked to play board games and walk along garden paths and write down lists that she never read. 

The first small smile she’d seen in a while twitched in the corner of his lips when he lifted his hand to move a pawn forward. They passed the game in companionable silence, the tension slowly dissipating, and he beat her soundly as he always had. He had a mind for strategy. After a game the entire day was passed in a similar fashion. At some point he had pulled on a pair of worn and faded jeans with a t-shirt. He showed her the little patch of gardens near where he was staying. It was a public lot, among abandoned houses and boarded up businesses, full of wild flowers and vines. He pointed out the daisies and dandelions with as much attention as he gave to the lilies and roses.

Hannah enjoyed his company, as much as she ever did, but she felt weighted by an apology she owed although she was loathe to bring up her own mistakes; it was an unfortunate flaw. She was standing in the waist high wild grass with her hands swishing along top some soft yellow flower, and Castiel’s back was to her, when she finally deflated.

“I’m sorry I ever doubted you Castiel. I’m sorry I left.”

She held her head high, even when he turned around. He only looked weary.

“I did lie to you. I made my choice, and you had every reason to leave.”

“It is so hard to make decisions.”

“I know.”

“I shouldn’t have –“

“Hannah, don’t. Despite my transgressions you have given me your faith, several times over, you need not ask for forgiveness.”

She felt an urge to wrap her arms around him, something tight between her ribs that pulled her towards him, but he was walking on through the vacant lot with his face to the sun and his hands held behind him. Hannah simply followed.

They passed the day that way, with clipped conversations and Hannah offered her smile every time she could because she thought it must be that Castiel did not see enough smiles. He ate a sandwich, picking at it distractedly, while she watched birds outside his window.

She tried to talk about anything but what was on both their minds. She told him about the angels that had desired her to pass their gratitude on to him. About their new missions. About the good things, the things that were moving them forward and moving them on that he would not get to see come to fruition. Still, Castiel did not think that it was a future they should have. He was dwelling still in the past.

"It wasn’t supposed to be like this."

"And how is it supposed to be like? With half the world burning while Michael and Lucifer fought? With the angel’s under Raphael’s heels trying to break them free? With Metatron running heaven? Tell me how it’s supposed to be."

"I don’t know. I don’t. But not like this."

"It’s not as bad as you think Castiel."

He sat with his forearms rested against his thighs and his hands hanging between them, curled over himself, staring at his open palms. Hannah wondered what he saw there. She had only had a vessel herself for a brief flick of time, and already she was beginning to associate things with physical relations. Although her corporeal existence was different from Castiel and from humans, she saw this body, it’s hands as she worked, the neat pressed suit, and she had begun in part to identify with it. She wondered if his hands reminded him of the things he’d done.

So she placed her hands in his, fingers curling around them, a human gesture. She wanted to remind him that they had done good things together.

"We will move forward, and we will heal. Please, Castiel, I don’t want you to die bitter and full of remorse."

“What else do I have.”

It wasn’t a question, it was a statement, empty and resigned. Hannah knew that he had been friends with the Winchesters, whatever her opinion of them was, and she had thought Castiel had left to find them.

"What of Sam and Dean? Did you look for them?"

There was something twisted in his face and she didn’t know yet how to read human bodies very well and she couldn’t tell by his grace because it pulsed weakly and it wasn’t even his own.

"I couldn’t…… I didn’t manage to contact them."

Perhaps he hadn’t even tried. Perhaps it was another thing he felt he didn’t deserve, couldn’t have, or perhaps he felt guilt for what had become of them. Hannah wasn’t certain she wanted to find out what had happened to Dean since she saw him last.

"Let me stay tonight. I’ll watch over you."

"Hannah."

“Please. I don’t want you to be alone.”

He turned away from her, retreating to the bedroom and she remained hovering by the door frame uninvited but unwilling to leave.

"Please Castiel let me take some of the load from you."

"Why would you want to do anything for me?"

"I do it for myself. For my own convictions. I thought…. I thought you were my friend. Don’t turn your back to me."

He sat perched on the edge of the bed. “All right. Stay the night.”

Hannah gave him an affirmative nod. “I will watch over you.”

She moved to the living room and stood by the window. She would stay, and protect him. She wished he wouldn’t suffer but she knew there was nothing she left she could say to alleviate his guilt. So at least he didn’t have to suffer alone. She didn’t know how long she stood at the window listening to the occasional squeaky creek of his mattress or the tap tap of a tree knocking the side of the house. Eventually a different noise intruded, a small broken whimper she thought she must have imagined, but then she heard it again. No one had come into the house, she knew, but it sounded like Castiel was being hurt so she crept quietly to the bedroom, only to see him tossing with the blankets twisted around his waist, still wearing his jeans and t-shirt, brow shining with sweat.

Hanna was familiar with the concept of this human thing, dreaming - or nightmares. She made her way to the side of his bed, moonlight and the distant glow of a street lamp coming through the uncovered window. Touching her fingers to his brow, Hannah brushed a strand of hair aside and he stilled. How terrifying it must be, to be more human than angel, stuck somewhere in between, certain of what is to happen but uncertain what is to happen after that. No one knows where angels go when they die. Perhaps this terror of the unknown is something angels and humans share, although for angels it is - or used to be - such a distant and easily ignored threat. Angels have been dying a lot lately.

Hanna thinks, too, about the humans that have been displaced since the angel’s exile, so many needing vessels to take. It was an unfair thing for them to ask of humans. And the factions still fight, picking their sides and waging their battles. Whether in heaven or on earth, it doesn’t ever seem to stop. Hannah has seen what that violence does, to those who do not come back and to those who do. But there is something still so concerned, and careful, in Castiel.

Toeing off her dress shoes, Hanna settled onto the bed beside Castiel, sitting on top of the covers, her fingers tangled in his hair while he gravitated towards her in his sleep, hands seeking contact, body drawing in to warmth. Her arm curled around his shoulder as he pressed his face to her chest, his body trembling with shivers but burning hot. She didn’t know if he’d make it through this night. But she would not leave his side. He did not deserve this.


End file.
